


Saving Mr. Graves

by Funkspiel



Series: A Collection of Odd Events (Tumblr Requests) [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: ...I think I got everything?, Blow Jobs, Cum feeding, Cunnilingus, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Graves is in a Coma, Healing Sex, Incubus Graves, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Magical Healing Orgy Sex, Multi, Orgy, Pegging, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funkspiel/pseuds/Funkspiel
Summary: When the rescue party finds Graves completely healthy but utterly comatose, they turn to Newt thinking its poison or the bite of some creature. Newt only needs one look to spot what he considers to be the obvious. Director Graves is an Incubus, a starving one at that. And it’ll take an orgy to wake him safely - or else he’ll never wake at all.





	

Newt had just finished just checking on his creatures and making sure they were all accounted for when he finally entered his little live-in shed. He was wiping off his hands on a well-used rag, thoughts of herbal tea and bed heavy and pleasant on his mind when he finally realized he was not alone in the case. He looked up to lock eyes with Tina Goldstein, and froze.

“Tina? What are you–?”

“It’s Director Graves,” she said, her eyes solemn across the space of the table that sat between them – the stairs behind her. “We found him.”

“Oh! Well, that’s good news,” Newt said, trailing off as he took in her expression, “…isn’t it?”

“He won’t wake up,” she said. She twisted a glove between her hands. “We think it might be a poison from a creature. Or something… could you…? I know we don’t deserve any more of your time, Newt, but could you possibly come and look?”

Newt cast a glance to his bed with a longing look, then let out a heavy sigh – leaving him deflated. When he looked back at Tina, he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon.

“Of course,” he said, “Let me just fetch my coat.”

 

* * *

 

The hospital room was small, not because of its actual dimensions, but rather the sheer amount of people that had managed to pile into it. In two chairs in the corner were Queenie and Jacob, their hands inseparable since the moment Tina had managed to convince the President to let Jacob’s memories remain in consideration of his heroic acts in the name of the wizarding world. Jacob was gently stroking her hand, his words low and soothing as he whispered, ‘ _don’t worry, dear, I’m sure Newt will know how to help him’._ In a chair beside the window sat Abernathy, his hands shaking where he idly twisted Graves’ wand this way and that – no doubt wondering how he had missed his boss’ absence. To the left of the bed was a mediwizard, jotting down vitals as a nurse checked Graves’ pulse and finally, Seraphina Picquery to the bed’s right.

And at its center was Percival Graves. The _real_ Percival Graves. His skin was pale, far paler than the nearly olive skin Newt remembered his imposter to have. He appeared gaunt, as though somewhat starved, and his hair was flat and limp about his face. But other than that, he did not appear to be in pain. In fact, he looked serene in sleep – long black lashes a stark contrast against the pale marble of his cheeks.

At Tina and Newt’s entrance, all eyes flew to them – or to be more specific, Newt. Newt cast his gaze to the ground and swallowed, his smile meek as he said, “I was told you needed my help?”

He halfway expected Picquery to have him arrested. That she had changed her mind. But instead, she merely nodded and said, “Yes, Mr. Scamander. It appears we yet again are in need of your services.”

“What appears to be the problem?” Newt asked as he stepped into the room, eyes rising to fall upon the sight of the man in the bed.

“He appears to be in fine health. A little gaunt, but otherwise healthy. He won’t, however, wake up,” the doctor said, moving aside to give Newt room as he explained. “The aurors found him unresponsive. We’re not certain why. We thought, maybe, a creature…”

But Newt just held up one hand to silence him, eyes wide as he caught sight of a mark he had only seen in textbooks. There, just above where the blanket brushed Graves’ collarbone, was a wisp of iridescent markings – pale and inconspicuous like the pearly ridging of a scar, but distinctive in the swirling artistic nature of their placement. Newt came to Graves’ bedside and gently moved the blanket down, revealing that those marks followed the path of both of Graves’ collarbones.

Excited now, he pulled the blanket further, eliciting a gasp from Tina and the nurse as he next revealed Graves’ arms and hips, only to find more markings. They twisted around the man’s wrists and swirled up to his elbows in thin, intricate little swirls. They ensnared the sharp jut of his hips bones and wrapped around the scarce meat of his waist to trail onto what Newt could only imagine to be more markings on his back. And now that he was closer, he could _smell_ the man, too. Spicy and hot. Nothing overwhelming, but something that slowly grew upon itself, setting a heavy, hot warmth in Newt’s chest.

His sharp bark of excitement made everyone jump, eyes wide and on him as he gently grabbed Graves’ wrist to bring the nearly unnoticeable markings closer – finger tips trailing across their spiraling patterns as he spoke quickly.

“I never thought I would ever see one in real life. This is _incredible,_ ” he said, completely oblivious to the room at large as he rambled. “No wonder he wore so many layers.”

“Excuse me?” Picquery said, eyebrow quirked.

“Do you know what’s wrong, Newt?” Tina asked, suddenly at his side. Hopeful.

Newt blinked, eyes wide as he looked at them all and said, “Well, yes. It’s quite obvious. Did you… did you not know that he was an Incubus?”

Tina jerked back, as though stricken. She looked from Graves to Newt and back again before finally saying, voice tense, “An _Incubus_? That’s absurd! He’s just a man, Newt!”

“He’s an Incubus,” Newt said pleasantly, revealing Graves’ wrist to them and tracing the markings for their own eyes to see. “It’s faint right now because he’s quite starved, but generally these marks are more vibrant – or at least, so I’ve been told. They’ll return when he feeds. And if he did it in often enough doses amongst a rich enough crowd of various hosts, he could potentially keep in rather good health without ever hurting a soul. It’s marvelous really. I _knew_ that they could integrate in society without harming anyone. This is astounding,” he said, hands reaching for his notebook when the doctor suddenly stopped him, regaining his focus.

“Mr. Scamander, please, focus. How can we help the director?”

Newt scrunched up his eyebrows, as though unsure if the doctor was merely playing dumb or making fun of him as he said, “Well, it’s quite simple. He needs to feed.”

“To feed,” Picquery repeated, tone dull as she prompted Newt to continue.

“Yes,” Newt said, then blinked as though realizing something. “Although, a feeding from one host would likely result in death, as starved as he is. He likely won’t be able to stop himself once he wakes… perhaps multiple hosts, but then–“ his cheeks burst to life in a harsh blush as he realized what needed to happen. “Oh. Oh dear.”

“Newt?” Tina asked, stepping forward. “What? What do we need to do, Newt?”

“We…” he swallowed. “We need to, _Merlin’s beard, I can’t believe I’m about to say this.”_

“With all due respect, Mr. Scamander, if you know how to assist, please do share,” Picquery said, his cool tone betraying her slowly ebbing patience.

“We – _weneedtohaveanorgy.”_ And then Newt braced himself, shoulders up to his ears and eyes scrunched. From the chairs behind him, he could hear Jacob let out a harsh, disbelieving bark of a noise. But evidently only he had caught Newt’s words.

“What was that, Newt?” Tina asked, brows furrowed – confused.

“We need to have an orgy,” Newt said, eyes still close and head burrowed into his shoulders as he explained. “It’s the only way to allow him to feed enough to wake without him harming someone. One person wouldn’t survive it but, I don’t know, say… six or seven people would likely walk away from it a little tired, but none the worse for wear.”

“An orgy?” Tina squeaked.

“Is there no other way?” Picquery asked.

“Of course there is—“ the doctor snarled, but Newt continued anyway.

“I’m afraid not. After an extensive period of time without feeding, Incubi are said to go into a comatose state to preserve themselves – but if he doesn’t feed soon, his body will begin to fail. Just like any human body would. It’ll take longer, but he will die without this,” Newt said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Scamander.”

“Not his– with all due respect, With all due respect, Madam, we’ve heard him out. He’s obviously daft. And even if he weren’t, which _he is_ , if what he is suggesting is hardly moral for a number of reasons! Can we continue on with _actual_ solutions now?”

Newt frowned, but flinched all the same at the man’s obvious rudeness. Eyes on Graves’ slack hands, Newt didn’t see the fierce, assessing way Picquery stared at him until finally, she spoke – drawing his wide, surprised gaze.

“You are dismissed, doctor. Your efforts have been appreciated, but since it is obvious that you are of no more benefit to our situation, you can see yourself out.”

With a scandalized snort, the doctor stomped out, the nurse hesitantly following after him. And once the doors were finally closed, Picquery turned to look at Newt again.

“Alright, Mr. Scamander. If that’s what it will take,” she said, hands reaching up to the buttons on her blouse, making Newt choke, “Let’s not waste  anymore time.”

“Madam President!” Tina squeaked, voice even higher as a fierce blush rose across her cheeks.

“I understand if any party in this room views this solution to be too unmoral to assist. If such is the case, I do request that said people see themselves out,” Picquery said as she reveal the plush line of her cleavage, nestled as it was in a rather lacy looked bra. Queenie gasped, but a quick look was all it took for Newt to see that it was not a scandalized gasp if her hungry gaze was anything to go by.

“How do we begin, Mr. Scamander?” Picquery asked, eyes on him as she let her blouse hang open – obviously unaffected by her state of undress. Or at the very least so confident as not to care what others would think of her for having so quickly revealed herself.

“I, uh—“ Newt shuffled awkwardly, breath thin as his gaze fell upon Graves. At the sight of the man – thin and silent and needing help – he shook himself of his disorientation and straightened his back. “Incubi feed off of sexual energy, but most importantly, they feed off of the fluid released after orgasm.”

“So he needs sperm?” Picquery asked as she drew Graves’ blankets until they rested at his feet, revealing the rest of his naked form. Newt felt his blush deepen, but steeled himself and focused instead on facts.

“Yes, but despite what most doctors these days might tell you, women are also capable of producing ejaculate after orgasm. While obviously it’s not sperm, it’s still the essence of orgasm and therefore in theory would be just as potent to Graves as a man’s sperm. Whether he ingests it orally, anally or topically doesn’t matter; just so long as he absorbs it.”

“Then that settles it,” Picquery said, turning to address the room. “Whoever wishes to leave, now is the time.”

Silence fell across the room. Tina seemed frozen, her eyes wide and entranced as she stared at Graves’ slack form. Jacob looked flabbergasted. Abernathy had turned a peculiar shade of white.

Queenie just stood with a soft, comforting pat to Jacob’s hand before she walked over to her sister’s side with a knowing look. Immediately, Tina’s blush grew brighter and she shook her head fiercely.

“He’s…important to you, Teenie,” she said softly. “You knew something was wrong. You may not have known what to do about it, but you knew it wasn’t him. You have him back and now he needs your help.” Queenie wound her fingers into Tina’s and squeezed. “Don’t worry. I’ll help, too.”

Tina looked down at her own shoes and nodded, her of hair bobbing, before moving to remove her coat with trembling fingers.

Both girls startled when suddenly, Jacob appeared beside them.

“J-Jacob?” Tina squeaked, but Queenie was already smiling.

“These past two days have already been weird enough. Why not add this to it, too?” He said, obviously so overwhelmed with everything he had experienced that he no longer cared. Queenie giggled and Newt clapped the man on the shoulder with a wry smile.

“Alright, Mr. Scamander,” Picquery said, pulling their attention. “If you would be so kind as to lead the way.”

“Ah, right, yes,” he stammered. “Of course. Let’s just, um,” he looked around the room before finally picking out one of the more comfortable, sturdier chairs out and pulling it to the end of Graves’ bed. He gestured to Graves himself and said, “If you would be so kind as to bring him to me, then,” and began to quickly shimmy out of his trousers – not bothering to remove his vest or shirt beneath. He did, however, shuck off his coat and kicked the little pile of clothing to the side before sitting down on the chair.

With a soft spell to make the man lighter, Tina helped Jacob ease Graves off the bed – both blushing furiously as they got an eyeful of the man’s length as they did so.

“I figured an Incubus would be bigger,” Queenie said lightly, more amazed than disappointed.

“Q-Queenie!” Tina said, one of Graves’ arms wrapped over her shoulder, leaving her hunched beneath his weight despite Jacob taking the man’s other side.

“I’m not saying he’s small, I’m just saying I thought he’d be bigger, considering!” Queenie giggled.

As they brought Graves around to Newt, the man got an eyeful of his own and shook his head.

“Actually, that’s not so surprising from what I’ve read. You see, females only have but about three inches of nerve endings inside their vaginas that actually stimulate pleasure. So a more average sized dick would likely stimulate more pleasure than someone who was, as they say, “hung”. Not to mention that he’s quite average. Hardly small. Here, face his back to me,” Newt said as he reached out to then guide Graves into his lap, blinking suddenly as the man’s ass touched his lap, “Oh my. Evidently they’re self-lubricating as well. Has he been doing this the whole time?”

“Since the aurors found him,” Picquery said, watching. “They figured that Grindelwald had done something…inappropriate.”

“Obviously not, if he’s so malnourished. He must be producing his own lubrication in the hopes that his pheromones would attract someone while he’s comatose. Interesting. I’ll be sure to make note of that...”

“Newt, how do you know so much about Incubi?” Queenie asked.

“And female genitalia, for that matter?” Tina added.

“I recently made some acquaintance with a man who focuses his studies on Incubi so that I might include it in my book. A much more academic version of his notes, of course. As for my knowledge of female genitals, I’m a biologist, ladies. I study quite a lot, both magical and otherwise.” Newt coughed as he gently manhandled Graves back into a more comfortable position, leaning the man’s head against his shoulder. He reached down to stroke a spell into his own length and encourage it into hardness, but as he shifted, some of the slick from Graves’ asshole oozed onto him – and instantly, a pleasant warmth bloomed in his balls. He gasped as slowly, the feeling spread and with it, his cock rose fully to attention. “Ah. I thought I would need a spell for that, but it appears his natural secretions serve as an aphrodisiac of sorts. Makes sense, I suppose.”

“What do you need us to do, Mr. Scamander?”

“If someone could just raise him for a moment.”

Jacob straddled his feet, and with a large hand on either side of Graves’ lithe waist, lifted him.

“Ah, there was go,” Newt breathed. “Just one moment.”

And then, he gently positioned his girthy dick at the Graves’ hole before nodding quickly, jerkily, and bracing himself. With a blink, Jacob realized that Newt meant for him to _lower the unconscious man onto his dick_ and with a nervous swallow, did just that – his eyes on the man’s slack face as he did so.

And as Graves’ hole winked open and stretched around Newt’s intrusion, his mouth slipped open and released a soft sigh, lashes fluttering. Jacob nearly dropped him, his pants suddenly too tight for his crotch. The moment Graves’ was fully seated, he let go as if burned and stumbled back, breathing hard. Queenie giggled and rubbed his arm soothingly.

Newt slammed his head back against the chair and bit his lip, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, clenching heat of Graves’ ass.

“Mr. Scamander?”

“Ah, ah, _yes,”_ Newt said, forcing himself back to the task at him. He leaned forward, arms winding around Graves’ lithe frame, and wrapped his hands around the man’s semi-hard length. With quick jerks, he worked the Incubus to attention until he had a good five and a half inches length in his palms – thick and searing, precum beading at his head where he thumbed Graves’ slit. “If someone could ride him, that would speed things right along, I think.”

“W-what?” Tina squeaked, shoulders tense around her neck, but Picquery was already moving. With quick, deft hands, she removed her skirt until it whispered to the floor. Her panties followed – lacy and expensive, and somewhat damp – until finally she straddled the two men until he sex hovered just above Graves’ length.

“I’m sorry, Percival,” she said softly. If in regards to his imminent rape or the fact that she had not noticed his absence, Newt didn’t know. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Graves’ pale back as Picquery’s weight slowly settled down on them, pressing him into the chair as she seated herself. Lips against the man’s back, he finally said, “If anyone else ejaculates while n-not inside of him, please be sure to either feed it to him or r-rub it onto his skin.”

He barely heard Tina’s baffled, “ _what?!”_ before Picquery began to move atop them, gyrating her hips and thus moving Graves atop his dick – setting them all on a course that couldn’t be stopped. Newt groaned, eyes fluttering, as his hips began to pump up into the heat that absorbed him. He could feel Graves’ lubricants oozing out from around the plug of his length, spreading trails of fire where it dripped over the thin sides of his hips and over his taint. The scent of Graves grew stronger, his pheromones spreading throughout the now closed doors of the room and compacting – growing – becoming thicker until everyone’s blood ran hot in their veins.

The was the distinct sound of a zipper dropping and a quick glance confirmed that Abernathy, while still seated in his original chair, had released his rigid length into the air – his hand stroking in quick, hesitant jerks that slowly were becoming more and more bold – eyes trained on them. Or more accurately, on Graves.

“You weren’t wrong,” Picquery suddenly said, drawing Newt’s attention. When he gaze her gaze, her eyes were hot and dangerous, like a lioness. She held him pinned beneath her focus as she rode her right hand man, lifting and falling – breasts bouncing with each undulation. “He is the _perfect_ size.”

“Q-quite perfect,” Newt said, hands on Graves’ sides, thumbs caressing him as he leaned back to admire the broad span of the man’s back. It was only then that he saw it – the intricate swirls that he knew likely existed on the director’s back. They concentrated on the man’s shoulder blades, and if he squinted, he’d almost say they looked like… _no. They couldn’t be._

They looked like _wings._

And with every thrust of his slack body between them, the pearly markings seemed to glow. Faintly. So faintly, Newt almost didn’t catch it. But they pulsed with a soft, iridescent light – slowly growing.

It was working.

Graves’ head lolled in toward his neck, nose to his jaw. Newt could feel the man’s breath against his skin, the brace of it slowly quickening, and reached up with his hands to toy with the skin of Graves’ base where he and Seraphina became one. Into his neck, Graves moaned.

Picquery stilled.

“Is he waking?”

“Not yet, but it’s working. He’s only feeding off of the building sexual energy right now. H-he needs _essence_.”

“Then let’s move right along then, shall we?” Picquery said, ever poised – back long and regal as she rode them. Suddenly, Newt felt fingers brush his as Picquery found her clit and began to rub it, stimulating herself even further toward orgasm. Newt watched her, his length swelling inside Graves’ contracting tract as she closed her eyes and lost herself to the motions. Words bubbled on her lips, soft and inaudible, as she worked her hips down on them. He watched, entranced, as she worked herself up, up, up until finally, he saw the moment she climaxed. Her eyes shot open, fierce and predatory, as her back straightened further and her lower belly clenched. Her hips quivering, jackrabbiting down on them in little uncontrollable spurts as she moaned deep in her throat, her sex milking Graves’ cock. And when she was done and the haze faded, the scent of Graves doubled – thick, like a cloud. She moaned again as she leaned down to brush her friend’s sweaty hair aside and kiss his forehead, then gently dismounted so another might take her place.

Newt was just about to see who that person would be when suddenly a hand wound around the side of his head. A quick look up confirmed that Abernathy was behind him, face closer than he anticipated and pupils blown as he leaned forward.

“You said to feed him,” Abernathy whispered, and it was then that Newt realized what the man was doing. He watched as two white covered fingers slipped into the open sigh of Graves’ mouth and disappeared. And not a moment sooner, those lips sealed around those fingers. Graves’ sigils flared the tiniest bit brighter, flickering like a light bulb about to burn out, but at least noticeable now. Behind him, Newt heard more than saw Abernathy jump in shock as Graves began to greedily suck those fingers until finally the young auror pulled his spit slick fingers free to reveal spotless digits. His flush spread all the way down beneath the collar of his dress shirt.

But Newt missed it, his eyes still on the sight of Graves sucking the man’s fingers clean to notice – not did he notice when two small hands grasped onto his shoulders to steady a new lover. He blinked, eyes wide over Graves’ shoulder as Tina looked down on him with a small, incredibly nervous smile.

“Tina,” he breathed.

She nodded at him before cradling Graves’ lolling head in both her hands and pressing her forehead to his.

“Please don’t hate me,” she whispered, and lowered herself down. Newt couldn’t look away – entranced – as Tina’s nervous, guilty expression quickly melted into awe and bliss. Her mouth opened against Graves’ slack lips and she breathed into his mouth in quick, shaky pants until finally, she was seated.

And that’s how Newt found his release, watching Tina Goldstein spear herself on her boss’ cock. Graves’ hole tightened around him instinctively, his muscled quivering in milking waves as Newt spilled himself inside the director.

“N-Newt!” Tina gasped.

Newt opened his eyes, and when he did, it was to the sight of Graves’ sigils burning. Not brightly, but alight, a constant course of molten gold that moved through him like blood. It was energy, he realized. _Their_ energy.

“F-fantastic!” Newt said, excited by the development, only to look up when he realized Tina hadn’t reacted. He found her entranced, eyes wide and reflecting the light of two gold, glimmering orbs. Newt frowned.

“Tina?”

“H-he’s awake,” she whimpered, in awe, as she looked at Newt.

“He is?” Newt asked, leaned forward, only to freeze when the Incubus in his lap turned his gaze over his shoulder and he found himself suddenly pinned beneath the weight of glowing, golden stare. “D-Director Graves? Are you with us?”

But the eyes he found himself captivated by were old and hungry and primal. Lost beneath the angry tide of hunger and starvation. With a throaty growl, Graves suddenly writhed down on him, grounding his ass into Newt’s lap.

And despite having just spent himself, he felt his dick grow hard inside Graves’ channel once more – the action so quick and sudden, he groaned, overwhelmed.

“Better,” the Incubus growled before turning back to Tina, hands moving up her sides to slide beneath her blouse – his markings glowing beneath the thin fabric as they slid up to cup her breasts. Newt watched as the Incubus leaned into her, his lips mouthing at her collarbone sweetly just as he pistoned his hips roughly into her, making her body jump with the movement. She gasped, mouth open, as he continued at that pace – spearing himself down on Newt before thrusting himself up into Tina, leaving both barely able to brace themselves beneath the onslaught.

They found release quickly and together, Tina squirming and writhing with a quite, adorable whimpering as she clenched down on him as Newt grasped the Incubus’ hips and held on for dear life as another white hot haze of orgasm took him.

Newt must have blacked out for a moment, he realized, because both Tina and Graves were gone from his lap. A blinked, blurry eyed and disoriented, as he took in the sight of Tina’s face right in front of him, nose to nose. He jerked up onto a forearm, shocked, only to realize he was on the bed with Tina. And on the other side of the bed, Queenie – her hand on Tina’s shoulder.

“Ssh, ssh,” Queenie said softly, then pointed to the corner of the room.

Graves was on the floor, on his back – legs spread wide for Jacob’s paunch as the man railed him into the floor in short, heavy thrusts. And there was Picquery, gently lowered onto the man’s face as he ate her post-orgasmic essence straight from the source.

Newt’s dick twitched despite his obvious exhaustion, surprising him.

“You passed out after your second orgasm, but he eased Tina off and turned so he could mount you face to face. We didn’t think you could handle another go, so Jacob and Picquery seduced him off of you and I quickly pulled you both aside so you could rest,” Queenie said, cheeks flushed beneath the heady, filling scent of sex in the room.

“How many since I passed out?”

Queenie looked over to the trio just as Picquery slid off of Graves face. The man reached for her, a whine high in his throat, only to quiet when Abernathy lowered himself down to feed the Incubus the length of his cock, silencing him.

“Me. Jacob once already, rubbed it into his skin… And now Picquery, so I guess three since you passed out. Eight orgasms total?”

Newt could believe it, if Graves’ marking were anything to go by. Even from here, he could see how they glowed – bright and flaring even brighter with each thrust Jacob made against him.

He watched as Graves took Abernathy to the man’s base and hummed. Watched how the young man’s eyes rolled in their sockets as his balls drew up against him and he came; and Graves just drank him down greedily, eyes bright and satisfied. A few breaths later, Jacob followed – balls deep and still as he released inside that clenching heat that Newt knew all too well.

Spent, Abernathy pulled back until his back hit the wall, only to sag down onto the floor, trousers around his ankles. Jacob rose to his knees, only to shuffle back until he found his old chair. With an exhausted groan, he pulled himself into it – head back and eyes shut as he rode the waves of his post-orgasm. But _Graves_. Graves just sat up and looked around the room, still hungry.

A quick look at Jacob and Abernathy was all the Incubus needed to know he wouldn’t get much energy from them, but his eyes quickly fell upon Newt’s steadily growing dick and smirked, eyes suddenly predatory and knowing. Newt swallowed, but quickly got up from the bed lest Tina, still unconscious, get sucked into it.

Newt made his way into the center of the room, eyes on Graves all the while as the Incubus rose unto his own feet – tall and broad and so physically perfect looking its unnatural. Borderline otherworldly. Newt can’t look away. Not even as his knees tremble because he knows he’s pushing it. Not when Graves’ is looking at him like _that._

He watched as a pink tongue slipped free of Graves’ mouth to swipe across the full swell of his lower lip before darting back inside, and Newt shivered.

“One more?” Graves asked, his voice a deep rumbling in his chest that shook Newt down to his balls.

“One more,” Newt agreed with a shaky nod. Not a second later, Graves launched himself at him – hands holding his head as he licked at Newt’s lips, seeking entrance. Newt can taste unmentionable things on the man’s tongue, hot and searing, but the way he kisses him makes him forget. He melts down into that kiss, Graves shorter than him but no less demanding as he locks one leg around Newt’s waist, then another, and heaves himself into Newt’s arms.

The magizoologist was astounded by his own strength as he holds the man up easily, his dick hard and pressing against the Incubus’ entrance as they kiss there in the middle of the room. With an inpatient growl, Graves jerked down, impaling himself in one, quick swoop that left Newt gaping against the onslaught of his kiss – breathless.

Beneath his fingers, Graves is _humming_ with energy. His markings glow bright and brilliant and swirling like the northern lights, the light glimmering this way and that, all building to an even brighter shiner along his back. It means something, Newt knows it does, but he’s lost beneath the feeling of Graves’ hips grinding down on him and the white hot heat that clenches him. His eyes fluttered, oblivious to the room at large until suddenly there’s something touching him at his base, nudging at Graves’ entrance.

Newt’s eyes open, locked with Graves own pleasantly surprised gaze before focusing on the person that had suddenly appeared at Graves’ back.

Queenie Goldstein.

“Q-Queenie?”

“It’s obvious the party’s almost over,” she said, smiling as her fingers helped align the head of her strap on – _and Merlin’s balls, just where the hell did she get a strap on,_ Newt wondered – next to Newt’s length at Graves’ hole. “But I don’t see why you two boys should get to have all the fun.”

Newt felt a thin finger enter Graves’ ass beside his cock and _pull_ , making the Incubus keen against Newt’s neck before a long, hard length of rubber began to slowly slide inside beside him. It made the fit that much tighter, that much hotter, that much more unbearable, and Newt felt his knees go weak – but they held.

“Queenie,” he whined, eyes barely focused, and in his arms, Graves was a shivering wreck. He could feel the Incubus’ cock hot and heavy on his belly, leaking copious amounts of precum all over both of them.

“There’s more than one way to have fun,” she winked, then she began to move – reducing both men to moans and leaving Newt no choice but to move as well. They finished the night like that, Graves’ markings flaring steadily brighter and brighter as Tina and Newt worked him over. With every thrust, Graves’ hole became a little more accommodating and with every thrust, Newt knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He could feel Queenie’s fingers at the base of his cock, moving down until they cupped his full balls lovingly. He caressed them twice with the soft pad of her thumb before she smiled sweetly at him and slowly began to squeeze, pressure increasing gradually. Newt cried out and bite into the meat of Graves’ shoulder, overwhelmed and looking for an anchor.

Shocked, Graves bore down and Newt could last no longer. He climaxed balls deep in Graves, hips jerking erratically against Queenie’s rubber length as he spent himself.

Queenie pulled out and gently eased Newt and Graves to the ground until the Incubus was once again straddling the lithe magizoologist’s lap. Even now, the director writhed atop Newt, hips working to milk him of every drop. And when Newt finally stopped ejaculating, he pulled his teeth free of the man’s shoulder to look at him – eye lidded and hazy eyed from his orgasm – only for that haze to clear as he saw Graves straighten in his lap. Before his very eyes, Graves’ markings flared so bright, he had to squint before flickering to his back. With a cry, the director threw back his head and shouted as that light emerged from his back in a glorious burst, spreading and rising until they formed to large, semi-translucent wings made of golden light that stretched from him in a glorious display – bat like and awe-inspiring – before finally tucking back down against Graves’ back and disappearing back into the marks. Just like that, the sigils’ light faded into deep black markings; no longer glowing, rather looking more like tattoos than scars now. Rich and sated and brimming with energy.

And all Newt could do was watch, mouth open in a silent gasp, as Graves slowly lowered his head and opened his eyes. He watched as that golden light slowly faded from them, disappearing to reveal familiar brown depths before finally, Graves blinked.

“Who are you?” Graves asked, not seeming at all perturbed to wake up with a cock up his ass. Newt flushed.

“It’s a long story.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr!   
> http://funkzpiel.tumblr.com/

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Soft Epilogue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10389849) by [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr)




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